Living In the Past
by WhiteTigerYay
Summary: A Captain America: Civil War fanfiction. It is during one of the numerous battles that happened during the war. One person gets caught in the crossfire, and Captain Steve Rogers will never be the same.
1. Part 1: The Beginning

Natasha Romanoff boarded the midnight black army truck; the doors imbedded with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. A fierce look was seen in her pale green eyes. She turned around, addressing the fifteen or so people behind her.

"Remember, we aim to disable, not to kill," she said sternly. The rest of her team nodded in affirmation solemnly, except for the blonde locks of one specialist. Natasha cocked her head to the side.

"Problem, Agent Russel?" She questioned, addressing the soldier.

"No, ma'am I thought we were supposed to bring Mr. Barnes in at all costs?" He answered, his brows wrinkled in confusion.

"No killing," she insisted, finality written in her voice.

"Understand?" She demanded, making eyes contact with every soldier.

"Yes ma'am!" She heard a chorus of voices shout.

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When the large black truck finally reached its destination, Agent Romanoff and her team were met with the sounds of a battlefield. There were gunshots; sharp, piercing bangs, coming from all directions. There was yelling, both terrified and commanding. This time was one of the very few moments where, the Natasha Romanoff, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avenger, was afraid. She was terrified of what the consequences of this would be. No one else could die. Too many have died already. She was shaken out of her thoughts by a black haired agent, looking for instructions. Natasha quickly briefed everyone on their plan of attack. If everything went according to plan, which it probably wouldn't, they would disable all opposing targets except for agent Steve Rogers, agent Clint Barton, and Mr. Bucky Barnes. They then would ask agent Steve Rogers and agent Clint Barton to stand down while we took Mr. Barnes in, not to kill, but to question. Every agent listening fell under the sharp, green gaze of the red haired assassin as she stared at her team.

"Let's go," she finally said after a moment's pause. She then kicked open the midnight black doors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. truck and leapt into the battlefield, her mind becoming completely focused. This is what she was meant to do. She ran out into the cacophony of noises, leaving a cloud of rust colored dirt kicked up into the air behind her.


	2. Part 2: The Beginning of the End

"Steve, _please_!" Natasha Romanoff pleaded with her friend. "We're not going to hurt him!" She protested.

"And how can I be sure of that?" He shot back, suspicion written in his sharp blue eyes.

"One time, not too long ago, you said you would trust me with your life. How is this any different?" Natasha said, softly, but not so quiet that her friend couldn't hear her.

"Nat..." Steve Rogers said, his voice trailing off as it broke.

Natasha paused for a second to knock out a hostile who had come up behind her. One fist was all it took to make the tan canvas clothed soldier out for the count.

She knew why Steve Rogers was so protective of Bucky Barnes. Steve had his whole life ripped away from him, and he could never get it back. The person who he loved was now resting in an old folk's home, about to be lain to rest. His best friend died when he was in the war, or so he thought. Seeing Bucky against him just about broke Steve. Bucky was his best friend, and he had been tortured and brainwashed into submission by Hydra. Bucky was the only fragment out of a mirror of shards that remained. The only part of Steve's old life that he has left. And he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.

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Clint Barton was on the roof, watching Captain Steve Rogers's back while he had a formal talk with Natasha Romanoff. He tried to listen in on their conversation, but Steve and Natasha both removed their black earpieces. Clint knew because he was watching and was cussing Steve for being so ignorant. But he knew Steve wouldn't do it for no good reason. He had a plan. For now, it was just to keep everyone from getting seriously hurt. Clint finally understood what the plan was when Bucky arrived. He dropped down out of a helicopter, while a flurry of movement was already being made to stop the formerly-known Winter Soldier.

Natasha quickly glanced up at Bucky, said something quickly to Steve, and took off running in the opposite direction that the fighting was at. She then turned around and looked directly at me. Her sharp green gaze held calmly against my steel blue. Her eyes then uncharacteristically broke contact with mine, and slid directly to my right.

"Agent Tucker! I said _stand down_!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, still looking to my right. I was too busy to think about what she said, however, because all hostile were swarming Steve, and I knew he needed help. I grabbed my tranquilizer darts and started shooting. I soon realized that they were not getting the job done. As soon as I was shooting them, they were getting right back up. 'Sorry, Cap' I thought as I started shooting to kill. Just then, my hand was hit and I lost my target while mistakenly fired. I fearfully looked where the arrow was heading.

Straight.

For.

Bucky.

I closed my eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry Steve,"

Everyone heard the noise. No one could forget it. It was imprinted in their brains. I opened my eyes. It was not the sound of an arrow being shot through Bucky Barnes's heart.

It was through Natasha Romanoff's.


	3. Part 3: The End

"No!" Clint cried, a strangled yelp escaping from his throat. He then ran faster than he thought was humanly possible and jumped off of the building he was perched on. He fell to the ground in a graceful roll and ran towards Natasha. All the while, one thought was imprisoned in his mind.

'I killed her,' he thought numbly, the words echoing in his head, over and over. _'I killed Natasha Romanoff.'_

"No, no no no no no. No!" He muttered as he ran to her and saw the blood, crimson like a deadly rose, staining her shirt as it came like a fountain from her chest.

"I...had to do it." She whispered, her voice unbelievably soft as she gently stroked his cheek.

"Steve needs..him. Now more than ever."

"Why?" I sobbed, my eyes brimming with tears and my voice shaking.

"Why are you leaving me?" I asked. Steve was just standing there, stunned to the point of paralysis.

"You can take care of yourself, Barton," she smiled weakly. Now her face was completely drained of color, making her fiery red hair and pale green eyes even the more striking.

"Take care of yourself and the team... Take care of the team. Do that for me, okay? They're all a bunch of knuckleheads.. They couldn't find their head of it wasn't... Attached to their shoulders..." She whispered.

"I will, I promise." I said gently.

She sighed and a little smile played at her lips.

"If you don't, Barton, I will hunt you down and haunt you for the rest of eternity."

"I'm counting on it." One of my tears splashed on the middle of her forehead.

"Thank ...you." And when she closed her pale green eyes, they didn't open again.

I gave a guttural cry and buried my face in her body, slowly losing its warmth that I had adored for so long.

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Steve Rogers had not left his room. He had not eaten. He had not spoken to anyone. He refused to speak. Even Bucky could not get through to him. He had tried, so hard. Bucky blamed himself for Natasha's death, but Steve... Steve resented himself. The super soldier was no longer confident; questioned every movement that his pale body made. Natasha was a sister he never had, and always had his back. Until the very end. The rest of the team was hanging on by a filament, so soft that a whisper could break it. Clint was trying desperately to keep the team together, for Natasha. Her last request will be fulfilled. He can make sure of that. Tony had tried to get into Steve's room. He decided to cease all fighting, partly because he looked into the Captain's face and saw the destruction he had caused. Tony was getting there. He had forgiven himself, which was the first step.

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Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled.

"This is for Steve," he reminded himself. Yet, his body was fatigued and he had barely gotten any sleep. That was more than Steve had gotten. Bucky could no longer stand to look at his best friend, as it pained him to see Steve this way. He shifted his weight and looked at the cool slate below his dark blue S.H.I.E.L.D. T-shirt and matching sweat pants and beneath his feet. Bucky then resumed his previous position of staring at Steve's door, its brightness betraying the contents of the room. Bucky was trying to gather enough courage to open the door, but still couldn't do it. He had been standing there for over an hour. He could hear Natasha's whispers, as soft as a feather, still lingering around the tower. The tower. It suddenly seemed... bigger; more daunting. Natasha helped us cope with our anger and our loss. And now, she was gone. Trying to protect him and Steve.

"Damn it!" Bucky cursed, banging his right fist on the opposite side of the white walled hallway, tears beginning to stream down his face.

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Steve was inside his room. He had been for the past three days. He was startled, and jumped about half a foot in the air, by a bang outside his door. He tentatively padded across the floor, his bare feet making soft pattering sounds on the cold floor. Steve swiftly reached out a hand to open the whitewashed door. Then, quickly brought his hand back. Images flashed in his mind, all at once. Natasha's eyes looking at him right before going into battle, showing no fear. Bucky as the Winter Soldier, mercilessly murdering innocent civilians. Peggy standing across from him, his arms around her waist. Steve's favorite song slowly reached his ears and Peggy danced with him, her face illuminated by the yellow lights of the Stork Club. Her features were accentuated by the light, which was making her mahogany hair glow. Peggy leaned in and whispered into Steve's ear.

"We finally got our first dance."

Steve smiled.

The image slowly faded, the sound of music slowly leaving his ears.

He was soon staring at the light ceiling of his room, back in the present.


End file.
